


Hello, I Love You. Won’t You Jump On Stage?

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Biopic nods, Canon nods, Challenges, Developing Relationship, Duets, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hidden Talent, Idols, M/M, Partying, Singing, The Doors - Freeform, Tribute acts, club, fangirling, serenades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 03:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: At a tribute concert, Maverick is convinced that the lead singersucks assand that Iceman, should put him in his place.And IcemanBreaking Throughon stage, is the best thing he’s ever seen.





	Hello, I Love You. Won’t You Jump On Stage?

**September 1989:**

“Mav seriously, you don’t have to come.” Iceman was pacing as he fiddled with his watch.

“Nah, man. You love them, they’re your favourite band and I might as well—“

“—Because you’ve got nothing better to do?” Iceman asked, voice small.

Maverick shrugged, looking up at a slightly perplexed Iceman as opposed to the television set.

“Yeah, don’t come. I could ask Carole, I know she’s a fan.”

“How do you know that?”

Iceman startled a little at that. He had never really told Maverick that he and Slider had made the effort to see her a lot. Before and after Goose. She meant a lot to him and to Maverick and maybe Iceman didn’t know why he did it back then but now, three years later it all made perfect sense.

“We spent some time together back in ’86. Goose asked to borrow some records and I figured that we should just meet and together we—”

He stopped himself and Maverick didn’t elaborate. Instead, he just folded his arms and Iceman swore under his breath.

“I’m coming.”

Iceman rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a grin.

“Of course you are. If you get bored, it’s on you to get yourself home.” 

* * *

The two pilots entered the club, dressed down in civvies, hands brushing. It was dark, pops of striking red were the only source of light. The club was a haze, full of figures moving slowly to the tantalising music. The heavy snare drums, mystical beats and haunting vocals.

“D’ya here that there’s gonna be a biopic about these guys? Sometime in the next year or so.”

Iceman smiled a knowing smile.

“Bet you can’t wait, can you Kazansky?”

“Well that depends, if the actor who plays Jim does him any justice.”

“And looks smokin’ in those leather trousers?” Maverick added, nudging Iceman’s arm.

Iceman smiled that big, bad wolf grin, “that too, Mitchell. That too. Skintight and just hugging.. _everything_.” They shared a smirk. “I hope they get a guy who can capture Jim’s beauty and can actually sing.”

“And dances like a.. damn, Ice, what’s it called again?”

“_Shaman_.”

“Like that, yeah.”

“I wonder if they’d even let him sing, or would they just use the original tracks.. Guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

“_We_.” Maverick corrected.

Iceman’s blonde eyebrows furrowed. Maverick knew that look and was more than prepared for when Kazansky would state that there would be no interest in such a film for him. Screw it, it would mean the world to Iceman for Maverick to try and share Iceman’s fascination, or was it obsession, with him.

Never one to show too much emotion Iceman, hid his joy under a deep layer of what resembled intrigue. A look that Maverick never really saw unless they were flying. But still, a smile graced the Iceman’s lips and at that, Maverick chuckled.

They perched at a table far from the stage, Iceman’s eyes were transfixed on the singer. The band were a tribute, with a man clad as the black leather demon who Iceman so loved. He’d hop and skip, twirling an old timey microphone as he span, closing his eyes and screeching down his mic. Maverick’s eyes never left the bewildered look that plastered Iceman’s handsome face.

“We can move closer if you want to, Ice” but Iceman was already tugging at his arm and Maverick, more than a little concerned at his sudden willingness, went along for the ride.

_This is the end, beautiful friend._

Together they forced their way through the crowd who soaked up the flower power, the freedom and the fights that once were. The reason why they were here, the reason that the tribute still sang of such a powerful and righteous group.

“The closest to Jim Morrison I may ever get.” Iceman’s eyes were wide, his lips parted and Maverick just swayed along to the beat.

“What? Fuck that man, you’re way better.”

He didn’t know too much about _The_ _Doors_ or their albums but knew that they were Iceman’s favourite and therefore, he made the effort to embrace them. The psychedelic stuff really did confuse the hell out of him but Iceman really did enjoy offloading his own thoughts behind the lyrics, how the songs had been composed and how the instrumentals came together. It was a strange and fuzzy feeling but seeing the Iceman so passionate about something that wasn’t flying and winning, melted Maverick.

Maverick snapped his eyes shut as he leant closer to Iceman. He was singing along ever so slightly and Maverick smiled into his shoulder. At that Iceman startled, turning to face him and stopped his singing.

“Keep going.”

The secret duet was beautiful.

“Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain. And all the children are insane. All the children are insane.” Iceman paused and Maverick, clung to his every breath.

“Waiting for the summer rain, yeah”

Maverick lay his head on Iceman’s shoulder, who continued. His voice was small but powerful, husky. He knew just where the long solo’s were, when and how intense to take Morrison’s iconic screams. He knew every word to the, If Maverick was honest with himself, very alarming diatribes and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Iceman’s whisper, was far better than anything he’d ever heard. His baritone was simply irresistible, dragging Maverick to him, the two of them sinking deeper as hips swayed and hands wandered.

“Pardon?”

Maverick thrusted his thoughts into Iceman’s ear but he didn’t get very far.

“I said..” Maverick was yelling above the notorious ‘mother I want too-‘ instrumental for _The End_, “that this guy sucks ass. Tom, you’re way better.”

“Oh.. fuck, no. Mav, I couldn’t..” Iceman trailed off and even in the dim light, Maverick could just about make out his blush.

He knew he was right. Maverick gambled.

He shoved Iceman further forward, he was inches from the stage. And this hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Morrison wannabe who did look a little pissed. Or was that the character? Maverick couldn’t tell.

“Hey, hey! Your voice sucks.”

“Maverick!” Iceman sounded scandalised. “The hell are you-“

“-Think you can do better, _slave_?” Iceman froze as ‘Jim’ knelt down with his mic in hand, aiming it at him. His heart was racing, his body felt heavy and he almost didn’t register Maverick’s insistent hands pushing him further forward.

They exchanged a few words, things Maverick couldn’t hear. But from the tell of Iceman’s face, he was debating back and fourth and back and fourth, whether or not to accept Maverick’s challenge.

“He could sing you under the table!”

“Can he now?” The singer sounded impressed, raising an eyebrow that was lost under the brunette wig. Maverick assumed it was a wig.

“And if he doesn’t, he’s not gettin’ any tonight!”

“Mitchell, fuck.” Iceman’s eyes widened, he sputtered something unintelligible and blushed deeper.

Challenge accepted. Although Iceman singing in front of all of these die hard fans was definitely not the way to go.

“Wouldn’t want a case of blue balls now, would we?” Maverick winked and Iceman, bless him, looked sick to the stomach.

“What’s your name?”

“Tom” He reluctantly spoke.

“Well then, Tom, let’s see what you’ve got. _I like a man who wears his soul on his face._”

“And what does my soul say?”

“That you want this, all of this. And you’d be a fuckin’ _slave_ to your.. boyfriend if you didn’t take it.” ‘Jim’ winked and crept even closer.

Not that Iceman had much of a choice. He was hauled up, being blinded by all the strobe lights, the faux smoke choking him. He squinted, searching for Maverick’s blurry silhouette.

“C’mon Ice. _Light My Fire_.” He gave him a thumbs up and a playful salute. Iceman took a deep breath and-

_Fuck you, Mitchell._

“Not to touch the earth, not to see the sun. Nothing left to do but run run run.” He started out small, voice hitching as he clasped the microphone. His hands traced its stand and slowly, he pulled his mic free.

Maverick nodded wildly and Iceman broke.. into a grin. The shyness would be blending into cockiness within moments, they both knew it.

“Let’s run. Let’s run.”

His voice steadied itself. It was rich, calculated and so well rehearsed. As though he had warmed up and trained himself for years. Maybe he had. Maybe Tom Kazansky was a secret musical theatre nerd and he had been waiting for this very moment all of his life. Maverick grinned: all he needed was a kick up the ass. As always. At least when expressing himself was in order.

“House upon the hill. Moon is lying still  
Shadows of the trees. Witnessing the wild breeze.” Iceman began to move, his hips cocked forward, licking his lips and closing his eyes.

Maverick’s own eyes widened. He sang with such passion, such determination. His tone was perfect, perfectly wretched. The way Morrison would’ve wanted.

“C'mon baby” He peeled open his eyes and pointed to Maverick, crooking an accusing finger, “run with me.”

“Let’s run!” The crowd cheered and Maverick was beaming.

Iceman was beautiful, the way he twirled, mic in hand. He hopped, skipped, the way Maverick had seen Morrison do. In all the videos that he knew Iceman had seen, had studied. His mannerisms, his look.. Iceman had it. He just, he had it.

“The mansion is warm, at the top of the hill. Rich are the rooms and the comforts there. Red are the arms of luxuriant chairs.”

Maverick loved every unknowing second of it.

“And you won't know a thing till you get inside.”

The crowd roared, stamping their feet and clapping along. Iceman screamed, deep from within his throat, a sound that tore through Maverick. He shut his eyes, falling victim to the beat. Now that, _that_ was Morrison. Right there.

His hips were sinful, rocking to their own rhythm. His posture slumped, he hunched over his microphone delivering perfect note after note. His eyes were screwed shut, he felt the music. He lived it.

Maverick would never have gambled on Iceman being a showman but this, this was incredible.

The strangest life he’d ever known, huh.

“I will get you, soon. Soon. Maverick, soon.” He shook Maverick from his trance.

The harsh notes began to fade and Maverick knew what was coming. He may have only ever heard Iceman say it in the shower but, he was clinging to every sound. Every breath. Iceman would say it and Maverick, would try not to faint.

“I am the Lizard King, I can do anything.” Iceman breathed, voice stern. His gaze was heated, intense and without another word he strutted to the front of the stage and dropped his mic. The way he knew Maverick would’ve if he was up here with him.

The crowd’s roars were wild, full of high pitched screams and lower hollers. Iceman was gleaming, honest to Viper gleaming. His eyes sparkled, his smile was wide and he looked as though he was ten years younger. Or, maybe he looked like the teenager Maverick suspected he must’ve been, training himself to master such a distinct vocal and movement. The dance, the Shaman that he was yet to understand. Yet to feel.

‘Jim’ sauntered back on and Iceman turned, with caution.

“You better be getting laid after that, that was insane.” He belted and Iceman couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah Mitchell. After that, you owe me. Big time.” The two singers shared the mic and Maverick took his cue.

“Encore! Encore! I may never get this opportunity again.” Maverick winked and Iceman swore.

He staggered his gait and took the microphone that was willingly offered to him.

Iceman muttered something over his shoulder and the band were bought to life. Maverick smiled his mega-watt smile. He knew this one, Iceman liked to sing it sometimes. Especially when he didn’t know Maverick was there and listening in.

“Hello, I love you. Won’t you tell me your name?” Iceman held out a hand, helping Maverick to clamber up on stage.

“Hello, I love you. Let me jump in your game.”

Together they sang or rather Iceman sang and Maverick attempted to be his backing vocals. Iceman was laughing though his words one moment and the next, to Maverick, he had gone full Lizard King again; serenading him.

“Hello, I love you.” Iceman leant forward, so the mic nearly brushed Maverick’s lips.

“Won’t you tell me your name?” Maverick replied and Iceman smiled so full and hearty. He reeled Maverick in, kissed him quick and some crazy how, didn’t even miss his cue.

Was Iceman serenading _Jim_? Probably. Why not, Maverick figured, why not.


End file.
